


It was a flower once; grew juice instead of tears

by sleepymoon



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: (hopefully), First Kiss, First Time, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Romance, The Tangerine deserves its own tag, Vague Enough To be Historically Accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymoon/pseuds/sleepymoon
Summary: "Is your friend married?"The question catches Yusuf entirely off guard.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 77
Kudos: 740





	It was a flower once; grew juice instead of tears

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to [VeraBAdler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler) for looking this over <3

"Is your friend married?"

The question catches Yusuf entirely off guard. His hand, hovering above the large basket of fresh, sweet-smelling figs, freezes mid-air. The marketplace is bustling with frenetic activity around them: merchants showing off their colorful fabrics and hand-decorated pottery, voices raising over the general racket to bargain the best price, children chasing each other in wide circles as the men and women converse in small groups. The aromas of spices, produce, grilled meat, and freshly-caught fish all blend together, overwhelming yet wonderfully familiar.

The woman sitting cross-legged behind the row of fruit baskets is looking with interest over Yusuf's left shoulder. She looks just a few years younger than him, if it weren't for the fact that considering Yusuf's real age he could have easily been her grandfather, and she has lovely black eyes and a smile that's warm and inviting but also a little teasing.

Yusuf doesn't even need to turn around and look to know who she's referring to. He sighs.

"He's not my friend. He's more like a stray that I fed once and now I can't get rid of. Allah saw fit to put him on my path, yet I don't quite know what to do with him."

When this explanation doesn't seem to deter her curiosity in the slightest, he adds, "And he's a priest. He wouldn't know what to do with a true beauty such as you."

The girl smiles coyly at him from under her eyelashes, but her attention is quickly recaptured by whatever fascinating thing Nicolò is doing behind his shoulders. Yusuf gives in and turns his head, and finds his traveling companion crouched down on his thighs a few feet from them. The hood of his cloak has slipped down to his shoulders, and Yusuf notices that his pale complexion is drawing wary, mistrusting looks from some of the people in the square.

Nicolò is trying his hardest to earn the trust of a street cat that honestly looks more dead than alive, offering up a small piece of dried lamb meat. The cat is sniffing at his hand, suspicious. It's missing one eye and half an ear, and most likely has fleas. Yusuf almost wants to shout at Nicolò to leave it well alone, but he knows it would be of no use.

"It would be fun to teach him, I think."

Yusuf realizes then that his own attention had been entirely swept up by Nicolò's progress with the cat rather than the girl's alluring smile.

"Teach him?" he repeats, baffled. She hums in response, still smiling. "What a waste of your time that would be, my dear. He would gaze upon you with those big, unsettling eyes of his. His nose would poke you in the cheek should you try to kiss him."

"So it is. It seems you have given it more thought than I have," she replies saucily.

Yusuf scoffs and opens his mouth, ready to deny such a preposterous accusation, but the words seem to get stuck on his tongue.

Ignoring his frown, she holds up a ripe, vibrant-looking tangerine. "For your friend," she says. "A gift from Sameera."

Yusuf takes the proffered fruit, a sour, unpleasant taste settling in the back of his throat.

When he turns to check on him again, Nicolò is scratching the scrawny cat between its ears, looking down at it with a soft, pleased smile.

Yusuf's shoulders slump in defeat and he shakes his head, smitten by the sight despite his best efforts to avoid it.

"Well, dear Sameera, how much will it be for six figs and a handful of dates?"

*

They ride non-stop for days before the coast finally appears in reaching distance, and Nicolò's face lights up as the glittering blue at the horizon becomes nearer and nearer with each passing hour. When the battered hooves of their horses hit the edge of the long expanse of sand, he's dismounting before Yusuf can even turn to look at him.

He leaves his bags and sword at his feet, sprinting into a run in the direction of the crashing waves with a joyous, childish laugh, a sound that Yusuf has never heard from him before. Yusuf leans forward on his saddle, watching him as he sheds his cape, linen shirt, and boots on the way. He's down to his small-clothes when he dives into the water, disappearing from sight.

"What a strange, strange creature you have gifted me with, ya Rab," Yusuf says under his breath.

He takes his time, secures the reins of both their horses and spares a few moments to pet their snouts, then collects their belongings and slowly walks the distance to the wide stretch of shore where the land meets the sea.

Nicolò emerges from the water, taking in great gulps of air. His hair sticks in rivulets to his forehead, so he raises both hands to push it back, and his face and body seem to have been cleansed thoroughly from the accumulated road dirt, so much that he's almost glistening in the afternoon sunlight. Yusuf is now close enough to see that the other man has noticed his advance, and God knows why but he's smiling at Yusuf with a new, unfamiliar openness, as if they were old friends.

It would be fun to teach him, Sameera's voice rattles inside Yusuf's head. He can feel his cheeks burning at the vivid images the suggestion evokes.

Lost in his thoughts, it takes him a few minutes to realize that Nicolò has been calling his name, waving him closer.

Yusuf does not move to join him, even though a part of him is tempted. Better men would have been brought to their knees, he thinks, presented with such a siren's call.

"You foolish man," Yusuf shouts over the rushing wind. "I won't come and rescue you if you drown."

"Yes, you will," his companion shouts back stubbornly.

"Nicolò. Do not test me."

"Fair enough. Then perhaps this will be the time you finally get to be rid of me. If I drown, the current will sweep me far away, and you may never see me again."

Upon hearing these appalling words, spoken with such infuriating calm, a sudden spike of abject terror twists Yusuf's stomach in knots and robs him of all his breath.

Nicolò must take his silence as a challenge, for he kicks back and disappears under the next wave.

Yusuf cries out his name, but a small eternity seems to pass and Nicolò doesn't resurface. Allah, have mercy, he prays as he scrambles gracelessly into the water. Do not take him from me.

He's not a very good swimmer, but his desperation is enough to carry him forward, even though he can't see anything, can't breathe as the waves crash all around him and his panic builds and builds and builds. What if he cannot reach him in time, what if Nicolò is lost to him, what if they both drown and get separated, what if, what if-

As Yusuf would later learn, his friend can swim just like a fish, and in the end Nicolò is the one who gets to save the other, as he grabs Yusuf by the shoulders and hauls him by force back to the shore.

Yusuf collapses on his hands and knees once back on solid ground, lungs burning like hot coals as he gasps, spits out water, and tries to regain his breath. Nicolò is kneeling at his side, gripping his arms, and if Yusuf could focus on anything that isn't the thudding, overwhelming need for air, he would perhaps be able to hear his frantic apologies.

"I'm sorry, Yusuf. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I wouldn't leave you, Yusuf, I wouldn't."

Nicolò's stricken, remorseful expression does absolutely nothing to quell Yusuf's mounting anger. As soon as he feels somewhat in control of his own body again, Yusuf raises his shaking fist and punches Nicolò in the face with all the strength he can muster. Nicolò goes sprawling backwards with a bone-crunching sound, his hands instinctively coming up to check the damage. He sits up with a pained groan and Yusuf notices that his palms are streaked with blood. He must have broken his nose, but the injury takes only a couple of seconds to heal.

Nicolò wipes at his face with his the back of his forearm, says, "I'm sorry," in a quiet, broken voice.

Yusuf looks at him, trying to will himself to hate him, and then glances away with a frustrated sigh.

His nose is too prominent, too sharp. His eyes are unnatural, too big, too bright, and deep enough that they could hold Yusuf's entire universe inside them.

He's beautiful, and utterly unaware of his own charms. Yusuf doesn't want to care for him, and yet he knows he would sooner give up a limb than choose to be separated from Nicolò.

"I'm exhausted. Let's set up camp for the night," he says instead, and pushes up onto his feet to go collect their things.

The next morning, Yusuf wakes at the break of dawn for his Salat al-fajr. When he's finished he sits down to watch the sun slowly lift itself from the sea, suffusing the dark sky with delicate colors.

Nicolò joins him not long after. He does not utter a word but he sits within arm distance, mirroring his crossed-legs posture. Yusuf has noticed that Nicolò doesn't pray anymore, or at least he makes no show of it, but he always keeps watch when Yusuf does.

Giving in to a sudden, petty impulse, Yusuf gets the lone tangerine out of his saddlebag, starts peeling it as they sit together in silence.

Nicolò has washed up and put on a change of clean clothes. He has closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the marine breeze against his face. Everything is perfectly quiet, almost peaceful even, right until the moment it's not.

"Wait! You can't eat that!" Nicolò cries out once he takes notice of what Yusuf is doing.

"What? Why not?"

"Because it's mine."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sameera told you it's a gift for me."

That gives Yusuf pause, but he immediately tries to dissimulate his surprise. "Your Arabic is improving," he comments in a bland tone.

"Yes, it is." Nicolò holds out his hand, palm up, as if expecting Yusuf to pass over the tangerine. Yusuf does not move.

"Yusuf." Nicolò says, a clear warning in his tone.

Yusuf pops a slice of tangerine into his mouth and chews on it with great relish.

"Mmm-hm. It's sweet."

Nicolò stares for a second longer, then lunges at him.

Their scuffle is mostly playful. There's no real intent to hurt each other in any of their moves, yet as they struggle Nicolò gets hit in the face again and his left elbow digs sharply in Yusuf's tender side.

Yusuf doesn't know how it happens, but in the end they're both gasping and laughing, until somehow the half-peeled tangerine rolls out of their grasp and they stop moving at the same time. Only then Yusuf realizes that he's now laying on top of his former sworn enemy and pinning one of his wrists down by the side of his head.

He's just about to release the hold and put some space between them, a few miles ideally, when the other man opens his mouth and, quite simply, does the impossible.

"You are beautiful," Nicolò whispers, looking up at him with wide, guileless eyes. His fingertips graze against Yusuf's beard and his expression is so dazed that for a moment Yusuf thinks he probably did not even mean to say it out loud. But then Nicolò continues, undeterred, "God can strike me down if He cares enough to, but you are."

Ya Amar, replies Yusuf's heart, even though Yusuf himself has been struck silent by the confession. Ya Helo, it beats, gallops, deep inside Yusuf's thundering chest.

Nicolò blinks, wets his lips, looks away briefly. Then he sighs and meets his eyes again, as brave as they come. "Forgive me. I overstepped."

"No," Yusuf murmurs back, just as quiet.

His hands tremble only slightly as they reach down to frame the sides of Nicolò's jaw, where he can feel Nicolò's pulse jump erratically underneath his palm.

"No, there's nothing to forgive. I'm just about to overstep, too."

His fingers leave sticky imprints on Nicolò's skin as he kisses him.

*

Sameera was unquestionably right, Yusuf learns some weeks later, once they manage to acquire a room with a real bed, some oil, and some much-needed privacy. And while yes, it is fun to teach Nicolò, most importantly, most of all, it cracks his ribs wide open during the act.

As Nicolò arches against him and his naked thighs cling convulsively around Yusuf's sides, the onslaught of emotion that comes with it is so strong that he can almost physically feel Nicolò's hand reach inside his chest cavity, grip his heart in his fist and pull, pull, meeting no resistance whatsoever. It is mine now, Nicolò seems to be telling him, slotting their mouths together and shivering with pleasure, and you can never, ever get it back.

Yusuf wants to weep with it, so he holds him tighter in his arms, and tighter still, begging for more kisses even though there's no need to beg at all, for Nicolò is more than willing to oblige.

He comes with his name on his lips, shaking, made anew, as Nicolò watches him without blinking, and then follows.

"You're beautiful," Yusuf tells him once their passion has been temporarily sated, laying flat on his front. His voice is dripping with all the love and awe he's feeling and then some. "I do believe that Allah crafted you just for me, and in His infinite wisdom, He knew how to make you exactly to my liking."

Nicolò's eyes are smiling as he curls to lay on his side so he can look at him. "Oh? Did He?"

Yusuf gives him a stern, admonishing look.

"What is this? Such insolence, coming from my own heart? You will not doubt me, hayati. I will not have it."

This very serious declaration is met with a low, amused chuckle.

Yusuf clutches at his chest with a resounding, exaggerated "Ha!", as if struck by an invisible blow.

"The very light of my eyes, not believing the depths of my adoration! Whatever shall I do now, oh cruel muse?"

Nicolò's laugh is much louder this time, infectious even. "No, no, I believe you. I only hope my eyes did not unsettle you too much. Did my nose poke you? I'm sorry if it did."

Yusuf makes a pained sound and flops himself gracelessly against Nicolò's chest, settling in the space between his open legs and burying his face in his neck. "I'm nothing but a fool, Nico. A fool who desperately, immeasurably loves you and begs for your forgiveness."

Nicolò shakes with mirth under him, rests his hands on Yusuf's head, petting his soft curls to try and soothe him. "Of course I forgive you. I'm only teasing you. But there is one thing you could do, if you wanted to please me."

Yusuf leans back and rests his weight on his elbow so he can meet his lover's eyes.

"Anything. Name it, and it's yours."

Nicolò hums indulgently, then says, "Buy me a tangerine, tomorrow at the market."

Yusuf opens his mouth, but before he can speak Nicolò is already continuing, "And then wrestle me again for it."

Yusuf grins in response, delighted, and leans closer until their noses are almost brushing.

"And if I win, what do I get?"

"You get the prize, obviously."

"Mm-hmm. And what's the prize going to be, you or the tangerine?"

Nicolò smiles back, cups his hands around Yusuf's face. "Yes," he says, and draws him in.

**Author's Note:**

> Ya Rab: Oh, God / Oh, Lord
> 
> Ya Amar: My moon / My most beautiful
> 
> Ya Helo: My Handsome / My Beautiful
> 
> Hayati : My life
> 
> The title is from the poem _Tangerine_ by Ruth L. Schwartz and this fic was, in fact, almost named The Tangerine of Discord. 
> 
> Also, in my head the general premise of the whole thing was something like “Yusuf thinks Nicolò is as charming as a stinky stray cat, until one day Nicolò cleans up a little and smiles at him, killing Yusuf instantly.” 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this one, so thank you for reading <3


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